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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24868318">surrogate</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirenseven/pseuds/sirenseven'>sirenseven</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>props [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Bad Person Bruce Wayne, Blow Jobs, Bottom Tim Drake, Bruises, Daddy Kink, Extremely Dubious Consent, Gaslighting, Incest, Jason Todd Has Issues, M/M, Marking, Naked Male Clothed Male, Praise Kink, Sexual Abuse, Shower Sex, Sub Tim Drake, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Wall Sex, darkfic aka everyone treating this mental breakdown like it's just subspace, jason 'I totally don't have a daddy kink I just want to constantly bring up that you do' todd, tagging each relationship permutation is annoying but they are all present</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:26:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,341</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24868318</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirenseven/pseuds/sirenseven</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>If Bruce can do it, then Jason can too.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake/Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake/Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>props [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1728181</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>156</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>surrogate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason slips into the Cave after Batman and Robin return, toys in hand.</p><p>He follows the sound of running water to the shower. It's a communal setup, a single space the size of a small bedroom—or Bruce's enormous walk-in closet—with multiple shower heads. The space would remind Jason of a public pool's bathroom if it weren't so obviously expensive, charcoal gray tile and varnished teakwood, wide and flat shower heads hanging from the ceiling to pour down like rain. And if he didn't know it has less than innocent aims. Bruce easily could have made individual stalls. But this is all the better to ogle his boys.</p><p>They're to either side of the space, Bruce and Tim, scrubbing off with the tired efficiency from a satisfying patrol. Tim faces the wall, eyes closed and head tipped back in the water to rinse his hair, looking half dead on his feet. Bruce turns under his own spray, rubbing a shoulder like it's sore, and catches sight of Jason in the entranceway.</p><p>Holding eye contact, Jason silently sets down his small collection, then slips off his jeans.</p><p>For over three years out of Gotham, he never once dwelled on looking good. Looking right for the mission, sure. Sometimes it mattered if he was polished enough to avoid suspicion or dangerous enough to keep threats at bay. But he never paused to wonder if he was attractive during any of it. Never wanted to look...sexy.</p><p>The last time he can remember that mattering to him, he was living in this house. Now the feeling is back, that irritating twinge compelling him to become something appealing to look at, judging himself through others' eyes and not just his own actions.</p><p>Jason will tell himself he's ignoring it. Tell himself he's operating purely on practicality and his own desires. In this moment, tell himself that he's just trying to move quickly to preserve the element of surprise.</p><p>But the urge to be seen might be the reason he leaves his shirt and boxers on.</p><p>Jason feels them slick to his skin as soon as he steps under the water. He knows he'll be irritated by the feeling when he leaves, and again later when he has no dry clothes to wear. But with Bruce's eyes on him, he also knows he won't regret it.</p><p>Tim turns as soon as the sound changes. He makes no pretense of continuing to wash, watching with his hands ready. Jason closes the gap, until his back is under the water and Tim has retreated to the dry space between him and the wall.</p><p>The power difference shines. Age only a couple years apart technically, but Jason feels so much older. More importantly, he has half a foot and maybe a hundred pounds on the kid. He looks <i>down</i> at Tim, and it doesn't have to be a metaphor. Half-clothed under the shower with Tim fully naked, the disparity is even more stark.</p><p>A single line of suds trails from the corner of Tim's jaw down his neck. Jason reaches out to wipe it away.</p><p>“Missed a spot,” he says, soft instead of mocking.</p><p>Tim's eyes narrow.</p><p>The bruises on his neck are vivid in this light. Jason ghosts his hand over them, fitting each finger on a purple smear. They're distorted in places but inarguably the shape of his hand imprinted on Tim's skin. It's an electrifying feeling. Jason wants to tattoo them in.</p><p>He keeps his touch light, even as Tim's hands curl into fists. Jason smooths down to the crook of his neck, and leans in to suck on the other side. He has to duck for it, hair dripping over his face.</p><p>Tim tenses and pushes his chest back, craning away. “Don't.”</p><p>“Don't?” Jason repeats. He pushes water-slick hair out of his eyes, letting his arms flex with the motion.</p><p>“No more marks above the shoulder,” Bruce says. Leaned against the opposite wall, water futilely hitting his ankles, the echo carries his voice over. Before Jason can sneer at the order, Bruce adds with a brief conspiratory glance, “Like we talked about.”</p><p>They didn't. Jason heard it from the 'private' call Bruce and Tim had, and the reminder of listening in while Tim remained oblivious uplifts him.</p><p>He turns back to Tim, smiling.</p><p>“No more marks above the shoulder,” Jason agrees.</p><p>At some point, the kid will stop being so suspicious of him. Even if Jason will immediately ruin it by taking full advantage.</p><p>For now, Tim remains a bundle of tension. His eyes dart over Jason's shoulder, but Jason can't tell if he's looking to Bruce for reassurance anymore, or just to keep apprised of the man's position.</p><p>Arms wrapping around and under Tim's body, Jason pulls him closer, into the spray. He half lifts Tim by the ass to urge him onto his toes. The kid latches hands over his shoulders for balance, catching on the wet cloth. Jason can't imagine he's happy to do it. Independent streak a mile wide, all of them, even without Tim's personal distaste for Jason. Bruce, of course, batters that streak down until the 'in' is gone and it's just 'dependent.'</p><p>Jason is determined to remain a quick learner, so long as Bruce remains a teacher.</p><p>Picking a spot below Tim's collarbone, he stoops to suck a mark into it. No more above the shoulder—though Jason is pretty satisfied with what's he's already placed up there—but that doesn't mean no more at all. Timmy can't possibly whine about having to hide a hickey under his shirts.</p><p>Or two. Or ten. Jason meanders his way around, sucking and licking and nipping pink spots across Tim's chest and beneath his shoulders. The freshly-cleaned skin tastes of nothing but the water. It beats soothingly over Jason's back, contrasted by the sharp flexing of Tim's fingers in his trapezei. When he pulls up, neck complaining after hunching so long, he gets a rush of satisfaction from the speckled pattern.</p><p>Jason leans in once more, opening his mouth around one nipple to sink teeth into the surrounding skin. Tim hisses, fists bunching in Jason's soaked shirt, making the fabric tugs around his torso, but Jason doesn't let up. Not deep, not harsh, nowhere close to drawing blood, but wiggling his teeth in and sucking to ensure it'll stick.</p><p>When he releases, the satisfaction goes right to his groin at the sight. Perfect teeth marks framing Tim's nipple. Impossible to mistake their source or motive.</p><p>“Does it hurt?” he asks, thumbing over the nipple. His other arm remains around Tim, keeping him close.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“No?” Jason lifts his eyebrows, digging in against the nipple enough to flick it. “Good kind of pain? You seem to be into that sort of thing.”</p><p>Tim is already pink under the warm shower, but his cheeks darken. Water beads off his short hair, clings to his eyelashes, collects ever so slightly in the divots Jason bit.</p><p>“It doesn't hurt,” he says, and Jason drops it. All about keeping him on the hook, right? If he follows his calmer instincts, he'll have plenty of chances to humiliate the kid later instead of just one right now. Soft in between, so he can be harsh when it matters.</p><p>Jason scoops lower around his ass, spreading and lifting until Tim is forced to wrap his legs around Jason's waist. His arms pull tighter to steady himself over Jason's shoulders, clothes clinging to each of their skin in turn. He's heavier than his size betrays, dense with muscle. Jason could probably deadlift Bruce, though, so a half-size sidekick isn't a struggle.</p><p>“All cleaned up everywhere?” Jason asks, hands inching together behind the kid's ass in indication, though he looks to Bruce for the answer.</p><p>Bruce nods. Jason darts a quick glance at the bundle he left in the door, and Bruce pushes off the wall. As he turns back to Tim, Jason hears the second shower head shut off behind him.</p><p>He smiles at the kid, who's frowning as he's forced to lean into Jason for balance, and gropes his ass. “What about this? This hurt?”</p><p>In that hypothetical future where Tim stops being so suspicious of him, he also probably won't take a full second to gauge out every question.</p><p>“A little,” Tim says, voice very measured for being naked, marked-up, and carried.</p><p>“'A little,'” Jason repeats in a murmur, sound of the shower surely drowning his voice out for anyone further than the kid plastered to him. He ducks his mouth against Tim's neck again, feeling the kid stiffen up, but keeps it light. No marks; Jason can follow a rule when he's so inclined. “Filled you up so good and you're not even limping. Really can't get enough, huh?”</p><p>“It's sore,” Tim says, peevishly. Kid's gonna split himself in half, refusing to show weakness just as hard as he refuses to admit enjoyment.</p><p>Jason would know.</p><p>He pulls back with a smirk. “Who you tryna convince?”</p><p>Jason is expecting another bitter rejoinder, but all he gets is a clenched jaw and lost eyes.</p><p>Yeah. Jason would know about that too. But Tim Drake has everything Jason used to have, Bruce and this house and Robin, and everything Jason never had at all, loving parents and piles of money and <i>options</i>—and no excuse to look so messed up about it.</p><p>The water's disturbance echoes as Bruce approaches. He tucks what Jason has raided from his toy box into the nearest niched wall shelf, right next to the innocent body wash and shampoo, and keeps the lube in hand.</p><p>Jason slides his hands under Tim's thighs instead of reaching for the bottle. He could use it himself, but there's a high in instructing someone else, in instructing <i>Bruce</i>, that sounds so much better. Jason is half-clothed, and Bruce and Tim are naked. Jason gives orders, and Bruce and Tim don't. He's had Tim help Bruce out, so it's only fair Bruce return the favor.</p><p>“Don't worry about being sore,” Jason says to Tim, stepping him out of the spray, though his eyes lock onto Bruce over the kid's shoulder. “Daddy's going to stretch you out nice and gentle.”</p><p>Tim's fingers clamp down on Jason for just a second. It's not a happy gesture, not Bruce's flash of arousal.</p><p>The man touches Tim's back, fingertips brushing over goosebumped skin. Tim shivers. Must be chilly, soaking wet in the empty air. Jason is the only one underneath the spray anymore, pouring over his back.</p><p>Bruce smooths down Tim's side, onto his thighs. There's no reason he should have to touch Jason's hand to reach the kid's hole, which means it's an intentional diversion. Bruce lingers there, fitting his fingers into the gaps between Jason's and squeezing the supple skin below. Jason breathes deep. The motion is hidden from sight, but he can see the flex in the defined muscles of Bruce's arm, following it up to his broad shoulders, strong neck, hair of his chest.</p><p>As his hand slides off Jason's and up the curve of Tim's ass, his eyes are dark, firm jawline softened by pleasure. Jason still can't see the hand, but he feels every twitch from Tim when it reaches its target.</p><p>Bruce takes it as slow as Jason promised. He slicks his fingers liberally, click of the bottle echoing sharp around them. Just one finger starts, working in languidly until Tim finally starts to sag in Jason's grip. The second finger gets a sharp breath in, before Tim tentatively lays his head on Jason's shoulder.</p><p>“Good boy,” Jason says.</p><p>“You're taking it so well,” Bruce agrees.</p><p>Jason leans his temple against Tim's hair, smiling over him at Bruce. He can hear the occasional squelch, tantalizing beneath the shower's patter.</p><p>The fingering drags out, interspersed with pieces of praise. Jason gets bored of holding Tim up, warm water and wet clothes and the kid in his arms all dragging him down. He closes the step and half to the wall and presses Tim against it. His soaked clothes hold some of the water's warmth as Jason leaves it, but also drip distractingly down his back and thighs. Bruce lightly touches the small of Jason's back as he follows, and Jason simultaneously regrets the shirt blocking skin and is relieved for the buffer.</p><p>Bruce curls around his side, not directly sandwiching Jason in with Tim, but sharing heat. His hand continues pumping inside.</p><p>“Want to help?” Bruce murmurs, so close his chin is practically on Jason's shoulder.</p><p>Jason looks at him sidelong, very aware that if he turned his head they could kiss. It repeats like a trapped song in his head, even as his hand shifts to join where Bruce is finger-fucking the kid. If he turned his head they could kiss; if he turned his head they could kiss; if he turned his head they could kiss.</p><p>Bruce's fingers withdraw. The first two wrap around Jason's, sharing the lube. Jason holds his pointer out stolidly, letting it be enveloped.</p><p>His other hand hitches a better grip under Tim's thigh. Probably unnecessary. With Tim against the wall, legs around Jason, he could let go altogether and it wouldn't matter.</p><p>Tim's quiet. When Bruce bundles their fingers together, leading two of his and a third from Jason into that warm heat, there's barely an exhale by Jason's neck.</p><p>He nudges the kid back to lean his head on the wall instead. His skin contrasts the dark tile, marred by purple on his neck and red over his chest. Tim's eyes are half-lidded. Disconnected, as he passively accepts it. His legs tight around Jason are the only sign he hasn't gone limp and checked out entirely.</p><p>“Feel good?” Jason asks, making the kid's gaze flicker up. “Both of us? Well,” he chuckles, “not <i>all</i> of us, but a little piece.”</p><p>Tim's breath catches as Jason curls his fingers away from Bruce, into his prostate.</p><p>“C'mon,” he prods. “It feels good, right? Tell me.”</p><p>It could just as easily turn into a fight, Tim arguing back at him. But the kid is soft and lost and after a moment says, “It feels good.”</p><p>Bruce kisses Tim's temple and Jason smiles. Tim's not lying either. His lips are parted to breathe. Chest, practically on display, is flushed beneath the dappled marks Jason left, nipples pert. One is still framed by indentations of teeth. Between their bodies, Tim's cock stiffens, surely desperate for a touch—and that much, Jason can relate to.</p><p>“Look at you,” Jason says, continuing to stroke his sensitive nerves from inside. “You like this.”</p><p>“You love it,” Bruce adds, mouth still beside Tim's temple, hand still on Jason's back.</p><p>“It's okay. You can admit it,” says Jason. It's basically what Bruce said on the phone, so it must work. He can be just as good at this as Bruce if he wants to be. “Admit it.”</p><p>Tim swallows.</p><p>“I like it,” he whispers.</p><p>“<i>Good</i> boy,” says Jason, and pulls his finger out.</p><p>Bruce keeps up the stretching for him. Jason reaches back to rinse his hand in the shower spray, before lifting Tim's arms off his shoulders. Kid's got strong arms. Wiry muscle, enough definition that he must have some extracurricular excuses lined up if anyone asks. They're not bulky like Bruce or Jason, though. Lean. Jason can easy wrap his hand around one wrist. When he pulls them together, layering Tim's hands on top of each other, he can get a fair grip around both.</p><p>Strangest part is how lax Tim is the whole time, making no move to resist. His eyes follow the motion, but barely focus. Jason pulls Tim's wrists up above his head, holding them against the wall.</p><p><i>I've restrained you before</i>, Bruce had said, on the call with Tim. It's been holding a prized spot in Jason's brain. He should've asked Bruce what exactly that had entailed, actual ties or just his own hands like Jason is doing now. Jason <i>really</i> liked the belt yesterday, but this is a pretty picture too.</p><p>He shifts Tim's hands, adjusts the kid's legs around his waist, and looks to Bruce. “I'm gonna fuck him now.”</p><p>Tim closes his eyes.</p><p>Bruce sucks in a breath, and shifts until his hand emerges into sight. The bottle clicking echoes through the showers again. He moves slowly around Jason, savoring each moment or else gauging his reaction. There was none of that, back a million years ago when Jason was a kid. How he would react didn't matter, or was just assumed. Now it <i>matters</i>. Bruce is <i>cautious</i> around him. That might be the best part.</p><p>And when Jason allows, he feels like a magnanimous king or generous lover, granting each ounce of permission. Bruce slides behind him, and Jason doesn't balk because he knows it won't stray further. He shivers at the solid press all the way up his back.</p><p>One of Jason's hands holds under Tim's thigh, the other around his wrists. Bruce does all the work for him. Bruce carefully moves Jason's boxers down. Bruce takes his cock in hand to slide lube over it, warmed between his fingers. Bruce lines him up with Tim's hole, smoothing a thumb over the head of his cock.</p><p>When Jason pushes in, Bruce flat against him, it's almost like they're both fucking Tim.</p><p>He sheathes in one steady motion, stilling once he bottoms out, head pressed beside Tim's. It occurs to Jason that this is the only time he's fucked Tim on his own. Ha. First time he fucked the kid there was already a cock in him. Good to know he's still tight and warm without it, squeezing around Jason's cock as he adjusts.</p><p>“Greedy little hole,” he murmurs. “Takes us so well. You're perfect for this, huh?”</p><p>Tim shakes against him, fingers clenching and unclenching fruitlessly above Jason's grip.</p><p>Jason shrugs Bruce off him. He wants to <i>fuck</i>, and he's not going to do that part with Bruce positioned behind him like he's calling the shots. To his credit, the man rolls off easily, leaning on the wall beside Tim instead.</p><p>A steady pull back, and then Jason drives forward. He sets a firm rhythm, counting on instinct and Tim's reactions to guide him where experience lacks. Can't be too hard, right? People have been doing it since people existed. When Jason cants the kid's hips further towards him and gets a hitched breath for his trouble, he thinks he's angled right.</p><p>Tim's eyes stay closed, jolting on each thrust. He bites his lip, until Bruce's hand strays up to brush it.</p><p>“It's alright,” he says, coaxing Tim to release it. “It's good. Don't hide.”</p><p>He pulls at Tim's slackening jaw until it opens. His soft sounds join the slap of skin and occasional grunt Jason can't smother, filthy echoes around them. The shower runs forgotten behind them, white noise.</p><p>Jason fucks him against the wall, watching Bruce's hand wander at a comparatively lazy pace. It dips to Tim's neck, thumb pressing into one of the bruises there until Tim gasps, cringing away. Lower, poking into each mark Jason left. The bite-framed nipple it pinches, pulling out to make him arch, squeezing tighter as he whimpers. Tim slumps back with a whine when it finally releases, moving aside to scratch blunt nails over the other nipple.</p><p>Finally, Bruce meanders down to Tim's groin, cupping his erection.</p><p>Tim jerks, and Jason falters on his wrists for a moment, letting one slip. Bruce catches it, holding it up beside Tim's head. One wrist for each of them. His other hand keeps working over Tim's length. Jason feels the clench around him, watches Tim's head squirm.</p><p>“God,” Jason breathes. Hurting the kid was easy. It's an ego boost to make him feel good. “Yeah, he likes that.”</p><p>“Beautiful,” Bruce says, watching where they connect, Jason's cock dragging against Tim's stretched rim. He leans in towards Tim, though his voice carries easily. “Just like I said. This is so much better.”</p><p>Tim twists his face towards Bruce, eyes still squeezed shut. Bruce takes his panting mouth in a kiss that's desperately received. When he pulls away, Tim's head drops against the wall, expression tight. Not the only thing that's tight.</p><p>“Wanna come, baby?” Jason asks, in that softly sweet voice that so disquieted Tim earlier.</p><p>Jason can't even tell if he avoids answering for fear of a trap, or if he's just too fucked out to make words. It doesn't matter. Tim's little moans answer for him.</p><p>“S'okay.” He pulls Tim's leg a little higher, drives in a little deeper. “You can let go whenever you want to, kid.”</p><p>Bruce refocuses his efforts, stroking Tim quicker and firmer. He matches Jason's pace, instead of languorously trailing behind. Jason watches the man's fingers flex around Tim's wrist, like he's resisting the urge to crush in more bruises.</p><p>“Come, Tim.”</p><p>It's not the immediate obedience Jason has seen before, but it only takes a few more strokes.</p><p>Tim breaks, chest arching off the wall as he spurts over Bruce's hand. Open-mouthed cries reverberate in the space. His breath hitches.</p><p>And then he—<i>breaks</i>. Before Jason can clock the shift, his moans have shifted to sobs. Not overstimulated sobs, not pleasure-pain sobs, but deep chest <i>crying</i>. Tears pour down his cheeks, face twisting in a mask of misery. Tim turns against the wall, head pushing to the side until it touches his pinned hand. No—until it touches Bruce's hand, just for that single sliver of contact, gasping between sobs.</p><p>Bruce shifts closer, carding his other hand through Tim's hair. His hitching cries quiet, though the tears don't stop. Jason shoots a baffled look to Bruce, because he was being <i>nice</i>. All soft and sweet. Didn't deny the kid or nothing.</p><p>Bruce doesn't catch it, preoccupied with soft reassurances to Tim, tucking the kid's head under his chin.</p><p>There was this one time, when Jason was thirteen maybe, where everything suddenly became too much even though nothing had changed. He sat on the edge of Bruce's bed after they fucked, naked and hugging himself, and sobbed his eyes dry. Bruce knelt in front, hands on his thighs, trying to tell him it was all okay.</p><p>He doesn't stop thrusting.</p><p>Jason hunkers down, head lowered, and chases his own release. If Tim wants to lose it, that's the kid's own damn business. It's not <i>his</i> problem.</p><p>By the time Jason is getting close, Tim has quieted, eyes dry though the tear tracks remain. He's had to readjust three times to keep the kid's legs up, eventually abandoning his wrist to hold both of them. The knees are practically up to his chest now, but Tim hardly seems to notice, sagging back, arm dangling. His eyes are open, but vague and distant. Awake, just—gone.</p><p>Jason speeds up until he's pounding the kid, to no reaction. He puts it out of mind, focusing on nothing but the warm clamp of Tim's hole, the extra tightness at his rim, the buzz lighting up Jason's spine. It's easy to forget everything, until he's coming into the kid, jerky hips and rough groans.</p><p>Leaning his forehead on the wall, Jason lets Tim's legs droop as he catches his breath, still buried inside. Fuck. Never getting tired of that.</p><p>When he has half a brain back, he glances sidelong to Bruce. Jason flicks his eyes to silently indicate the shelf beyond him.</p><p>Bruce lifts Tim's wrist from the wall, positioning both it and the limp arm on his other side over Jason's shoulders. Tim follows where he's pushed, hands curling in the shirt, but it's the kind of grip a baby could break. If Jason let go, Tim would drop like a cut marionette.</p><p>Leaning over, Bruce collects the simple plug he stashed. Not the giant from last night, but a smaller one Jason found raiding his bedroom. Also black. Bruce seriously needs to expand his palette.</p><p>Jason hitches one of Tim's legs back up to display his ass better and slowly drags his soft cock out. It's as good a view as ever: puffy pink rim, dripping come, all Jason's. Before too much can escape, he takes the plug from Bruce and fits it in. There. Snug and perfect.</p><p>The shower is still running. He completely forgot. Jason lowers Tim down to stand, slumped between him and the wall, and shuts off the handle on his other side. He didn't realize how loud the sound was until it's gone, heavy breathing suddenly audible and echoing. He clothes stick to his body, but he's worked up enough of a sweat not to cool without the water. Jason runs a hand through his half-dry hair, feeling it curl up at the tips.</p><p>Bruce leans casually beside them, eyes raking appreciatively over the pair. Jason's cock is still hanging out. It's not because he cares what he looks like. It's just because he's too lazy, Jason tells himself, when he doesn't pull the boxers back up.</p><p>Anyway, he's not the only one exposed. Bruce is blatantly hard, hand lightly stroking himself.</p><p>Jason pulls Tim up, leans to his ear. “You haven't gotten daddy off yet,” he says. Without any background noise to cover it, there's not a chance in the world Bruce doesn't hear.</p><p>He gets Tim down to his knees, practically puppeting the kid's body for him. Jason would have done it anyway, but when he kneels right behind Tim, pressing tight, he has doubts that Tim would even stay up without him. Jason pulls his jaw open, glad to see Bruce already getting into position, and feeds Tim the man's cock.</p><p>“Suck, kiddo,” he reminds. He thinks there's a contraction in Tim's mouth, but it's hard to tell. His body stays loose as Jason pilots his head up and down. “You gotta be good for daddy.”</p><p>Like this, Bruce looks at both of them. Tim is between, but it's Jason making him bob, Jason driving the blow job. It's Tim's hair Bruce combs through, but Jason's eyes he meets.</p><p>“That's good,” Bruce says softly.</p><p>Jason works Tim down in increments, until he can feel the impediment and then release of his throat. A tiny choking sound from Tim as it breaks through is the only sign he's still remotely present.</p><p>Bruce groans. “Yes.”</p><p>Up and down, repeating the motion. He makes it further and further until Bruce's cock is fully sheathed in the throat. When Jason wraps a hand loosely around, he can feel the bulge. He moves Tim back and forth, deepthroating each time, without speed and friction, but so tight.</p><p>“That's good, Robin,” Bruce moans.</p><p>Jason catches his breath.</p><p>Bruce comes down his throat.</p><p> </p><p>Tim is an empty shell.</p><p>They help him through a second rinse off and then into his pajamas, like an actual kid instead of the colloquial one Jason calls him. The bite mark is fading, but still visible as his shirt gets tugged on. He follows nudges and movements clumsily and stays quiet, leaning into the touches offered. Bruce gives Jason a dry set of his own sweats and a tee to wear, and it's a fucking trip that they fit so well. Tim lolls into the older man as Jason changes.</p><p>When they're all ready, Bruce wraps an arm around Tim's shoulders, Jason takes his hand, and they lead him upstairs.</p><p>He seems only slightly more aware in Bruce's bedroom. Still largely responding to physical direction, but cognizant enough to follow instructions when Bruce hands him a neon green toothbrush and tells him to use it. Bruce pulls out another from the cabinet, more subtle in color and packaged along with a miniature tube of toothpaste—fucking rich people—and offers it to Jason.</p><p>So the three of them stand in the bathroom and brush their teeth for the night. It is, hands down, the weirdest goddamn thing Jason has done all day.</p><p>Ten minutes later, Tim is passed out in the giant bed between them. Jason assumes he'll be back to being a frowny annoyance tomorrow and refuses to think more about it. He traces the silver patterns on the ceiling instead. Bruce has left the lamp beside him on its dimmest setting; quiet they may be, but it's clear neither are asleep.</p><p>“If you could do anything...” Jason starts, speaking softly into the silence. No, back up. “You said that you've restrained him before.”</p><p>Bruce makes a sound of agreement.</p><p>“What did that include?” He remembers Bruce having a taste for holding people down, but he assumes the man's interests have expanded and grown since then. Bruce definitely wasn't picking out giant fucking buttplugs when Jason was a kid.</p><p>“My hands, mostly,” says Bruce. They're both too quiet to wake Tim, even if he weren't this wiped. “Sometimes I tell him to stay still or where to hold, and punish him if he doesn't.”</p><p>“Punish?” Jason says, rolling the idea around in his head. “What does <i>that</i> include?”</p><p>“Denying him orgasm usually,” Bruce muses. “It doesn't come up much. He rarely disobeys.”</p><p>Jason considers for a long moment. His chest clenches, but his gut burns in arousal. “Do you want it to come up more? Punishing him?”</p><p>“Hn.”</p><p>“Or ropes,” Jason adds, “or cuffs, or whatever. Other ways to restrain him?”</p><p>Bruce gives another noncommittal hum.</p><p>“C'mon.” Jason turns his head towards Bruce, smirking. He can chart out every contour of Bruce's profile. Exhaustion pulls at him, but he always has energy to pester Bruce. “Tell me all your fantasies, old man. What do you want to do to him that you haven't?”</p><p>Bruce takes in an audible breath, but after a minute still hasn't responded.</p><p>Jason rolls his eyes.</p><p>“Here, I'll go,” he says. “I want...to fuck him twenty-four seven. I want there to always be something inside him. I want him to get used to that, always open and accessible. To tie him up like that. I want to fuck him so full of come there's no more room, and then plug it all inside. I want him to crawl naked behind me in the halls. I want him to suck me off under the table while I eat. I want him to beg me for all of it.”</p><p>Bruce's pupils are blown wide, watching him. Jason smiles lazily over.</p><p>“Now you go,” he prompts.</p><p>Bruce dwells on it another moment, before speaking soft and slow. “I've been thinking about...how much he can take. After he fit both of us. If I could get my entire hand in, my fist. The stretch.”</p><p>“Hate to break the news, but you got a size kink,” says Jason.</p><p>Bruce chuckles, low. It's a gentler sound than Jason is used to from him. He wonders if Bruce has ever spoken about this to anyone. Probably not. All locked up in his head by necessity, no one to share it with. Until now.</p><p>Head falling to the side, Bruce looks at Jason across the body between them.</p><p>“I like,” he admits softly, “when he fights.”</p><p>Maybe there is a flaw in that perfect obedience Bruce spoke about.</p><p>“I like when he cries,” Jason says. It should be shameful to say, but around Bruce, it seems more embarrassing to admit the opposite. Jason thinks of the delight in making Tim cry on their cocks yesterday, and ignores the strange twist in his stomach when the kid broke tonight.</p><p>Bruce hums, smiling just a hint. “It's quite something.”</p><p>He wants to ask about it. That complete drop into nothingness. The kid was like a fucking void, blank all over. He just doesn't want Bruce to think—It's not, like, important to him. It's whatever. He just doesn't know what it <i>was</i>.</p><p>“You think he's still got any of that fight left in him?” Jason says, phrasing carefully. “He sorta went lifeless on us.”</p><p>“He's had an eventful day,” Bruce says, smiling indulgently. He rubs a hand on Tim's shoulder. “He'll perk back up.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Latest writer struggle: desperately wanting to swap titles around, but knowing it would just be confusing at this point. On the bright side, my previous writer struggle has been conquered, with a huge shoutout to go_Devil89 for giving me a great beta on this!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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